


We Don't Talk About That Night

by Pineapple_Strawberries_15



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone is lying, Finnick and Haymitch friendship, I'm awful, Innocent idiocy, M/M, No actual romance or sex, Nothing is true, This is crack, what the hell is this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineapple_Strawberries_15/pseuds/Pineapple_Strawberries_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch and Finnick share a night of. . . uh, something, after drinking copious amounts of alcohol. </p><p>This is really just meant as humor, don't take it too seriously. I think this is awful writing, but funny.</p><p> </p><p>Takes place before events in books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Talk About That Night

It never happened, nope, nuh-uh. People will talk and say otherwise, but the truth was, they were all drunk out of their minds too, so know nothing! It was a party, or a bar, neither man can really remember exactly- not that they want to. They just remember drinking, trying to take their minds off the last Game's. It worked! Oh yeah, it definitely worked. . . or did it? They won't tell. 

-The Unspeakable Event- 

Haymitch remembered the other hunched over the bar, a tumbler of something strong gripped tightly in his fist, a tight black shirt stretching over muscles and a rather loose pair of shorts. . . the “boy” was not bad looking at all, not that Haymitch really swung that way, but hey, give him enough strong drinks and he'd be spooning President Snow by the end of the night. Damn, the room was fuzzy at the edges and he snorted into his drink, the boy looked his way with an arched eyebrow and a slight drunken waver in his eyes. 

“What?”  
“Oh, nothing to worry yourself over, sugar.”  
“Haymitch, never call me that again,” he was almost slurring, but caught himself.  
“Sugar, sugar,” the older man leaned over towards the boy, “suuuuugar~.” 

There was an abrupt snort from Haymitch as Finnick swatted at him half hearted-ly, “Oooh, close one- sugar.” Finnick grumbled and tossed back his drink, they had been passing their time like this. Occasionally Haymitch would say something idiotic or teasing and Finnick would make a crude return, there were no intelligible conversations between them that night. “So, Sugar,” he received a glare and a middle finger, “how about we go back to my room.” Now, contrary to the fact Haymitch was still so articulate, he had just consumed almost a bottle of potent Absinthe and some whiskey, he was swaying on his stool, Finnick's own head would droop from time to time, the pair were almost out the door of consciousness, but for some intensely weird reason, Finnick actually grabbed Haymitch's wrist and they were wobbling off to Finnick's room- wherever the hell that was, things were sort of rushing past in a blur so it was amazing they ever made it at all. 

On the way to reaching the room, Finnick had thrown up in an expensive looking vase and Haymitch had urinated on someone else's door, so actually getting out of sight was a great idea. In the room they stared at the bed, “Holy shit, kid, are we actually going to do this?” The other huffed out a breath, “Hey, I'm no longer a kid,” - “I'm middle aged, so to me you are,” Haymitch retorted, “are you chickening out, old man?” Finnick gave the man a lopsided grin and swayed on his feet while attempting to gesture to the bed. “Who's going to top?” the older Victor asked, they stared at each other for a moment, giggled for exactly two minutes, then debated. 

“Well, you're ge'in a bi' pudgy there, ol' man, maybe I should top.”  
“Aww, sugar, you're becoming unintelligible,”  
“More int- better than you.”  
Haymitch snorted, “I should top, I'm older.”  
“Fatter.”  
“You're muscular, that weighs more than fat.”  
Finnick rolled his eyes, “well, I can hold myself up and you won't have to hold any weight!”  
“I could say the same right back!” 

Finnick grabbed Haymitch and tossed him onto the bed, “What, ARE WE DOIN' THIS WITH OUR CLOTHES ON!?” growled the older man. The younger Victor slapped his forehead and sighed, “no, strip.” - “Don't tell me what to do, Odair.” - “It's no longer Sugar? Are we breaking up?” - “Mm, about to break you, fuckin' ki-” Haymitch was muttering profanities as he took off his clothes, revealing a soft stomach, but slender build- and generally strong looking arms and legs. He wasn't awful to look at. “Not bad, for an old guy.” Haymitch chucked his underwear at Finnick's face. 

Finnick, the bastard, was toned and hung, and fit all over, “well, look at you, amazing what Capitol Steroids can do, hmm, Sugar?” Haymitch grinned while Finnick scoffed in irritation, “I work out! Now lay down, old man!” He grabbed the others shoulders and pinned him to the bed, they stared at each other- in a sobering moment they saw things they didn't want to in each other. Finnick was no longer the boy he had once been, he looked so young, but his eyes were old, and he held less shame than a normal guy his age should have. Haymitch just looked tired, drawn, older than he should. There were things they knew about one another, things they respected, if not the things trauma had pushed them into or Snow forced. 

“Goin' to stare all night, Odair?” A small smirk, eyes that had once been bright, Odair stopped looking into the sad orbs, “you were staring too.” Haymitch shrugged back. It was silent, awkward, then Haymitch grabbed Finnicks face and they kissed- it was bloody and hungry and drunken. Bloody, because Haymitch had bitten Finnick's lips! The young man let out a startled cry, but Haymitch didn't let go before kissing and soothing the lips- they broke away with heavy breathing. “What the hell, old man!?” - “Foreplay!” - “I'm not into that!” - “Party pooper.” 

Finnick sighed and spread Haymitch's legs apart, “this is going to hurt a bit.” Yeah, Haymitch figured that much, it wasn't every day he got drunk enough to suggest male sex and someone just fucking agreed to it, but it wasn't as if Finnick was usually aloud to refuse- he probably agreed out of habit. “You really know how to make a guy feel good, Sugar.” - “Now now. . .” Finnick shook his head, trying to clear it, he was doing better at not slurring or tilting to the side, “don't be snarky.” He gripped the older mans thighs and took a breath. 

“On the count of three.”  
Haymitch nodded.  
“One. . .  
. . .two  
. . .thre-”  
Suddenly Finnick was bucked into the air and thrown off the bed and onto the floor, successfully smashing his forehead against the ground with a 'thump.'  
“SOBER NOW!” screamed Haymitch.  
“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” screamed Finnick before struggling to his feet and kicking Haymitch in the stomach, “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!”  
“oof, ow, what the fuck~” the older man groaned and held his stomach. 

After several minutes of swearing, Haymitch puking in the wastebasket beside the bed, and Finnick swearing and holding his sore head, the younger man finally laid down in the bed and glared at the ceiling. Haymitch rolled onto his side to face Finnick, “. . .sorry.” The grin on his face told otherwise, but he did sound sincere so the other just sighed and nodded. Haymitch got up to turn off the light and then got back into bed, hand still on his stomach. The laid facing each other, “I'm not really sorry for kicking you,” Finnick said, receiving a glare, “thanks for that,” Haymitch replied. The room grew quiet and the rest of the night, well, they aren't sure, but they are pretty sure they slept- so people need to stop asking about it. 

-  
The End  
-

I'm so sorry. . .

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even bother to correct my mistakes. . .


End file.
